


Stop.

by lannisnow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot, Stiles being Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisnow/pseuds/lannisnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles will not stop moving. Or thinking. Or talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't judge me I watched a lot of wolf documentaries as a kid and the female would always like just start moving around like a douche and the male was always like WHINEWHINE and followed along and I was thinking about it because knotting and then I thought STILES and then this happened.

Stiles comes with a hitch in his breath and his lips between his teeth. He’s on his hands and knees under werewolf man Derek Hale, who is pressed as deep into him as Stiles thinks he could ever go. Derek’s cock is swollen at the base, inside him, sticking them together. If he wasn’t the one under Derek, the one who felt stretched and full to the max, he’d have his nose in books researching the shit out of whatever that is. 

“What’s that?” Stiles asks, trying to turn, grunting against the tug he feels.

“Stop,” Derek grunts, grabbing Stiles’s sides in a vice grip. Stiles groans in despair, clutches the sheets under him, shifting, moving, twisting to look over his shoulder at Derek hovered over him. His knees slide, he adjusts them only to get a pinprick of claws in retaliation.

“You could have warned me,” he says, arching away just to feel the pull again.

“Stop moving or I will dig your kidneys out and shove them down your throat,” Derek says darkly this time, thumbs pressing harshly against what Stiles can only assume are his kidneys. He probably should have listened more closely in biology.

“I’ve seen dogs do it before. Something like that?” Stiles says, trying to push himself up this time.

“Kidneys. Throat,” Derek warns again, hand snaking up between Stiles’s shoulder blades, pushing him back down against the bed. Stiles gets a mouthful of pillow and tries to pull his way up the bed, hips wriggling. It’s probably one of the most foreign feelings he’s ever dealt with, and maybe he should have taken his Adderal this morning, but he didn’t so he’s not going to dwell on it.

“I swear to God, Stiles,” Derek chokes out, pushing Stiles flat against the bed, laying on top of him. Stiles grumbles into his pillow, arches his back away from Derek’s chest. He’s heavy. Way heavier than a normal person should be. He’s wrestled enough with Scott to know that this is just too heavy.

“Do you eat lead for breakfast?” he mumbles once he’s turned his cheek onto the pillow, trying to glance over his shoulder. He ruts against the mattress a bit, just because he can, and because Derek groans every time he moves. It’s a very unsexy groan. More of a threat. Everything is a threat from Derek, though. And he really, really doesn’t act on them.

Stiles freezes almost instantly when he feels Derek’s hips roll into him. Derek is panting against his neck, pressed as close as he can be, enveloping Stiles completely. He’s filling Stiles up. Just filling him. Stiles can feel him, the way he pulses, the way his breath hitches when he’s coming again. Pulling his lip between his teeth, Stiles closes his eyes and concentrates on that feeling.

It’s weird. Really weird. The feeling of Derek all around him, in him, pulsing and breathing and, no, Stiles didn’t think it would be as cool as this, sex with a werewolf.

What’s really bothering him is that Derek keeps going. He’s just coming and coming and Stiles lets out a really small grunt because it’s getting a little uncomfortable. Derek makes a noise above him, too. Kind of menacing.

“Are you gonna answer my question?” Stiles asks, rolling his hips with Derek’s. He’s lost all sense of fear, really, around Derek. Ever since there started being a sexual kind of vibe between them and Derek gave him a handjob to say thanks for fixing a popped fuse.

“Knotting. Yes, like the dogs.” Derek’s voice is gravelly as all hell. He’s got his face pressed between Stiles’s shoulders. “I figured you’d already read about it.”

“Yeah, well, Wikipedia’s not the best reference for werewolf sex,” Stiles grunts. He can feel that thing start shrinking, but the coming’s stopped, at least. Even without the uterus, Stiles was getting a little worried there. Having werewolf babies, “Dear God, no.”

“What?”

“Did I say something?” Stiles glances over his shoulder to see Derek pushing himself up on his elbows.

“You said ‘Dear God, no’ two seconds ago,” Derek sighs out, grabbing Stiles’s hips and raising them both up a bit, until Stiles is up on his hands and knees again.

“Did I? Didn’t mean to. I was just thinking about a bunch of mini Derek Hales running around, causing terror and threatening to rip my eyes out.”

“Kidneys.”

“Same thing.”

Derek doesn’t completely disagree, just pulls himself out of Stiles and sits back on his heels. Stiles shutters and groans at the slick, warm fluid starting to run down his thighs. Somehow, Derek manages to lay down next to Stiles on his back. He stares up at Stiles’s ceiling, shrugs his shoulders. “Mini Derek Hales wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles snorts. “Too bad, buddy. I’m seventeen and a dude. Isn’t happening.” Derek shrugs his shoulders again. “No. Stop.”

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” Derek says, side eyeing him with a glare. Stiles rolls his eyes right back and plops down, starfishes out on his bed and pushes against Derek’s firm side.

“Get off my bed. Go away. You’re disgusting.”

Derek grunts and pulls Stiles half on top of him, both of them sticky with sweat and God knows what other bodily fluids. “Go to sleep.”

So he does.


End file.
